Stolen Car
by 1seddiefan
Summary: Blake, Alex, and Dylan are up one night. Someone steals Christina's car and it places Blake in a mood. On top of the stolen car, Blake can feel his depression kicking in. He ends up talking about it to his friends and Dean. One-shot.


A/N: As of right now, I'm in a bad mood because someone fucking _stole_ my mom's car. And since that happened, I have to make Blake miserable too. First our stereo, now the whole car? What the hell?

* * *

"We'll be right back. We're just going to that taco truck over there by the gas station," Blake said to his mother.

"Those tacos aren't filling," Christina said as the three teens went to the door.

The door opened and seconds later, she heard Alex ask, "Where's the car?"

Christina walked over to the door and looked outside. The car in the driveway was missing. "What the hell?"

The thing was, the driveway was near the kitchen window, she would've heard the car start up.

The car must've been stolen at least in the two hours from nine to eleven.

"I would've heard it start up," Dylan said.

Blake, meanwhile, was marinating in his depression and guilt. He would've heard something, but his friends would've heard something too, and they didn't hear anything either.

Christina ran off to call the police about their car being stolen, while they just stood there.

"Well, they sure were ninja-like," Dylan said.

Blake replied, "Don't let Seth hear that. He'll get mad."

Alex nodded and Blake looked down at the scars on his arms. He blamed himself for the car being stolen. He was up, he should've _heard_ something. He should've heard the car being started up, _something._ The car was in the goddamn driveway, close to the fucking front door and next to the fucking kitchen. He was staring at his scarred arms.

There were the voices in his head that always spewed lies to him to get him to hurt himself and lied to him to make feel _unloved_ to the point where he had to kill himself.

 _Wow, worthless and useless. You couldn't even hear them break into your mom's car. What good are you?_ It was a voice that oddly sounded like him.

Dylan and Alex were looking at their friend.

* * *

At eleven-thirty at night; the three of them were talking to the police officer. Well, Dylan and Alex explained, Blake was standing there, looking his scars.

Christina was talking to someone over the phone; Blake was hearing her say, 'stupid heartless assholes.'

Dylan and Alex looked at Blake. He replied, "I didn't hear anything. I didn't see anything either."

Dylan walked over and hugged his best friend. Blake knew that his family and friends cared for him, but for some reason his mind kept rejecting the fact that they care about him.

"Do you remember the license plate number?" The officer asked, looking at the teens and then at Christina.

"Not off hand," Blake said. He looked at his mother.

Christina looked at them, "I don't know either."

The police officer nodded and Christina went inside the house. She was trying to figure out why she had the bad luck. Half of her family committed suicide and her son at one point attempted suicide, now someone had to go and steal her car. What the hell did she do in a past live to deserve this shit? She didn't know. Her ancestors must have pissed someone off, she didn't know.

She found a piece of paper, unfolded it, and looked at it. It had the VIN Number on it, which would help. She walked outside and held it to the officer. "This has the VIN Number on it."

"That would help," the man said and looked at the paper.

Blake was running his thumb over a scar and Christina walked over to her son. She hugged him, "there was nothing we could've done."

Blake knew that, but for some reason, his mind was going 'I-reject-it,' which made him feel worse. His therapist said that he was easier to upset and emotionally fragile. She said that he was slowly getting a 'thicker skin.'

* * *

"Are you okay?" Dean's neighbor Paul asked. Paul was watering his lawn and noticed how tired Dean looked. It was part of the job.

"I'm fine. Someone douche bag stole my aunt's car and it drove Blake back into his 'shell.' Everyone's worried about him because of his depression and self-loathing," Dean said.

"Poor kid," Paul said. Blake sort of reminded him of his younger brother Nick, except Paul hated Nick with a fiery passion. Paul was sure that if Dean met Nick, Dean would hate him too.

"How's Mike doing?" Dean asked, actually curious. He hated seen Mike in three days.

"He's out on some sort of business trip," Paul said and shrugged. "It's very lonely without the guy around, even though we argued the day before he left. He didn't tell me goodbye."

Dean shrugged, "that sucks." Whatever his neighbors argued about wasn't any of his business.

"Yeah," Paul said. "Good luck with getting your aunt's car back."

Dean nodded, "thanks. Good luck with your argument with Mike."

Paul nodded, "thanks."

* * *

"What are you going to do for your one year anniversary?" Dean asked Alex. Dylan was in the living room at Christina's house, trying to break Blake out of his depressive mood.

Alex looked startled, "I have no idea."

Dean nudged Alex with his elbow. He whispered, "Between you and me, I think I'll give it another year before you hit _that_ road." Alex's cheeks turned red. Dean continued, "I think you'll have a hard time trying to get into his pants." Dean smiled, "Did I make you uncomfortable?" Alex nodded and Dean grinned, "Good."

Alex walked back to the living room, his face still red. Blake looked at Dean, "What did you say to him?"

"Don't worry about it," Dean said.

When Dean says 'don't worry about it' it means that he shouldn't ask questions. Blake wasn't sure if he wanted to know or not. He decided to go with not knowing.

"So, what's going on inside that head of yours?" Dean asked, looking at Blake.

"I just feel so guilty for something that I didn't know happened. I don't know why. These two didn't hear anything either so I don't know why I feel guilty for not hearing anything." Blake explained and Dean made a face. "Seriously, I know I have nothing to be guilty about, but my mind refuses to accept that and is making me feel guilty."

"That's…" Dylan started but didn't know how to finish.

"My mind tells me lies. My mind says that none of you guys love or care about me, but you do. It's trying to get me to kill myself by telling me that you'll be better off with me dead," Blake explained again.

Dean figured he understood it, "You know we care about you, yet your brain refuses to accept it?"

Blake nodded, "Yeah."

"I would hate to live in your world," Alex said.

"Yeah," Dylan agreed. Dean hugged Blake, figuring that he needed a hug.

Blake said, "it's worse because my brain is telling me that I should've heard something, even though Dylan and Alex didn't hear anything either."

Dylan rubbed Blake's shoulder, "That sucks." He had to look at Blake's arms, to make sure he's not cutting again. It didn't seem like it, but he had to make sure. Blake hadn't been covering his arms since the car got stolen. Dylan was relieved over it.

"I hope they find the car soon," Alex said. "I actually loved that car. It smelt like French fries in there for some reason." Dylan, Blake, and Dean looked at him confused.

* * *

A/N: They stole the car between 9:30 and 11:30 at night. My dad got up at 11:30 and found the car had been stolen. The guy across the street said that it was three Mexicans who stole the car. It was a 1990's Honda Civic and it may have been stole for parts.


End file.
